Gilly Flower

Now the weather has warmed up to a few degrees above freezing, with blue skies and brilliant sunshine to boot, I'm tempted to be outside pulling a few more weeds, instead of catching up with the blogs of others, and fiddling about with mine, but before I do I thought this story was too good not to share.

A few days ago J and I were mystified at the sudden and inexplicable disappearance of our rooster and one of his harem. They were around for their wheat at brekkie time, because I fed them, but somewhere between then and lunchtime, when J gives the chooks a bit of bread and scraps, they'd vanished.

No amount of calling or searching made them come running. And if you've any experience with chooks, (sorry, an Aussie term, those in the mother country are probably more familiar with the term chickens or hens) you'll know they aren't creatures to ever miss out on a free meal.

Our chooks are completely free range by the way, and have over five acres in which to do so, not counting their frequent forays into next door's paddocks, or across the road into the vacant bushland.

These two birds didn't appear the following morning, or for the next five subsequent mornings. We searched all over but there wasn't a feather to be found - should they have fallen prey to a snake (unlikely in winter as snakes are hibernating), or an eagle, (also unlikely as it's not breeding season, and the speed with which chooks melt into undergrowth hiding places at the first hint of circling birds of prey is astonishing to witness. They stay there for ages too until the danger is passed.)

Needless to say by Day Six we'd given up hope they would reappear. In fact we were now crossing our fingers that one of the teenagers - whose reddish plumage suggested it might just be a male after all - would in fact grow up to be one, so the chook production line would continue, when hey presto, J found the errant birds. Alive!

They practically fell out of one of the sheds where J keeps fertilisers, the spray pack, and all our spare buckets. Six days ago he'd gone in there for some piece of equipment or other, left the door open while he did whatever needed to be done, replaced his stuff, and shut the door, never noticing that Chanticleer The Third and his lady had followed him in.

Currently they're drinking and eating like you wouldn't believe, but other than that both seem fine, if a little unsteady on their pins.
Which begs the question about whether this story is one of incredible survivial, or amazing stupidity.

We're still undecided!